Who will stay with Sara?
by Lady Jeh
Summary: "I grabbed the pillow and forced it against my body. I wanted to stop hurting anyway. Not stopped. I could not believe I was crying for Catherine, we were always people so far away from each other ... what was happening to me?" CSI Femslash Cath/Sara
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_CSI is not mine._

**Note: **_Thanks to my beta reader Izabella G.D. Without she not there would be fanfiction!_

**[Chapter1]**

I close my eyes strongly, tightening my eyelids in a vain attempt of erasing the image that insisted in appearing stubbornly in my mind.  
That same memory that would wake me up night after night in the shape of the darkest dream that I could have the audacity to imagine. But it was real, and I knew it. Everything really happened . A static nightmare.  
I collected the sheets, wet with sweat and tears, and replaced them with clean bed-clothes; knowing that it will be the same in the following noon when the unlucky dream comes to visit me again.  
The phone rang - which would be unusual if the ID didn't show the name of Grissom. I hesitated for a moment, still stunned by the new manifest of undesirable memories. Interrupting the fifth ringtone, I heard from the other side line who I expected.

"We have a case." Said the staggering voice across the line; immediately misinterpreted by me.

"What?" I answered, still not knowing what to think about that "suspect" phrase coming from Grissom.

"Can you can come find me?"

"Grissom, what are you talking about?"

"Sara, are you sure you are awake? I said we have a case to solve, a rape, I think..."

"You think?" I said when I finally realized how silly I was acting.

"Well... You know we only believe in evidences and, sometimes, they are not as clear as they seem..."

"Grissom and his forensic philosophies" I thought, in the tiredness of the strictly professional relationship that we proposed.

"Ok, tell me where I can find you."

Not long after I came to the crime scene with my hair disheveled and my clothes rumpled of the hurry that hit me at the simple idea of finding him. It filled me with happiness the mere fact of seeing those infinitely blues eyes trough my sunglasses - that hid the eyes of who slept poorly.  
The scene that I witnessed affected me oddly – and I hadn't felt it for so long. The girl's mother was kneeling at her feet, with tears in her eyes, begging for her daughter to let her come closer. The girl, the victim, cried rivers of salt water, but, at the same time, her eyes were cold.  
The pain hit me. Actually, it reached someone who had left behind long ago, countless years.

_"I remember so many things from that day... But I do not remember the name of woman who took me."_

I gritted my teeth, angry with memories that suddenly wanted to appear at inappropriate times. I did not let my eyes, even camouflaged by the dark glasses, denounce any emotion.  
I was rescued from my deep thoughts by the mere touch of his hands; he made my skin tickle with his soft skin, and at moment, I wanted much more than a simple touch. I wanted more of him. I always wanted. But why didn't I have? The answer is simple: he is Grissom. And the excuses were never the ones that he told me. It was not because he is my supervisor; it never was because I am much younger than him or because the job takes all his time. He was simply like that. That's why I wanted him. That's why I hadn't him.

"They found her there, naked, filthy, as you can see. It is supposedly a rape. But she will not talk to anyone..." He began to detail the case for me, until I interrupted him:

"So you should have called Catherine."

"She is on break."

"Ok... But so was I." I replied.

Grissom looked at me severely for a short time. I turned around without looking into his eyes, until he finally spoke:

"Ok... But I prefer you."

He said it and left.

The word baffled does not express so accurately what I felt. It was as if he suddenly had broken the bubble glass that he had imposed since I told that to him. I don't know if he wanted mock me or if he was uttering those words in the literal sense. I just know that it really drove me to be very helpful and yawning to the case.

_To be continued..._

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	2. Chapter 2

**Who will stay with Sara?**

**Disclaimer: CSI is not mine.**

**N/A.: Thanks to my beta reader Izabella G. D. Without she not would there be fanfiction.**

**[Chapter2]**

"Ok, aunt Sara, it's time to work" I murmured in a ridiculous attempt to play with the situation. It's really ridiculous, because, besides the fact that the girl referred as victim was not so little, I was more shaken with situation than I should have allowed myself. And, perhaps, any laugh that I let to escape at the lab, would announce my unusual anxiousness.

As far as I was informed, the victim had sixteen years old and was walking through the park at night, when, suddenly, she was surprised by a man. To know more than that, I had no other alternative. I needed to talk to the girl or... To the bandit... I laughed to myself at that moment as I stopped to think about the absurd. Talk to the bandit? From where did I get that idea? It was already too crazy that I needed to talk to the girl about the happening with all her fresh memories hunting her mind. I knew by experience that they were getting worse by the minute.

With the determination and the encoragement of Grissom's "Ok... But I preffer you!", I followed the direction of the girl, who was thrown on the cold winter ground; isolated by three meters from the rest of the world as a result of a scary night. I sat by her side, exactly three meters away from her. I respected her three meters of loneliness. I did not look directedly at her, I never knew the color of her eyes. The only thing that I remember about that human being, are her pale hands, an indecipherable expression covered by voluminous hair that never showed her face, dirty and more disheveled clothes than mine and a smell of liquor and colony-of-roses which, at the ocasion, caused me more nausea than a bucket with salive.

"What's your name?" I asked in a low voice, still taking courage and making my horrible memories go away.

No answer. When I asked her for a second time, the dry voice replied that her name was Alice, just like her mother. But they were not alike. I looked at her mother, who was some meters away from us, talking to Grissom. I saw no bulk hair to cover her face or a extremely white skin.

"Was he armed?" New attempt.

I tried at all costs to persuade her to tell me what had heppened, but she didn't even changed the compass of her breath. She didn't even sighed at my question. It was like she was not there. It was like more one of her dreams, or even of her past; where the facts happened and I could not do anything but see the situation. Where was Catherine anyway when I needed her? She was the one who had a daughter; she was the one who takes children for a walk at the park and not me! It's amazing how Grissom can't pass too much time without complicating my life!

"Listen to me, Alice. You need to tell me everything that happened, so I can help you!"

"I don't need your help!"

_"Well, that's a start. At least, she used her vocal cords"_ I thought, impatiently.

"Don't you want the guy who did this to you arrested, punished?"

She looked angrily at me, as if she was about to say "No" categorically. But she nodded and came back to the world of silence.

When Grissom ended his conversation with the girl's mother, he imediatedly asked me what I had discovered.

"Well... She wants us to grab the criminal..."

"Was this all you could get?"

"She likes silence as much as you" When I ended the phrase I got a conspiratorial look from him.

"Don't you like it?"

"I remembered that you like the physical evidences better than the eyewitnesses." I said when he was no longer walking by my side. He opened the door of the car so I could get in. This was his gentlest gesture of the day.

"So, let's get the physical evidences!" He said.

Through the car's door, I saw Grissom lifting a brow when he saw me getting in, and soon after, I saw he entering at the car by the other door to sit by my side.

" Won't you take your sunglasses off? There's no sun in here." He pointed out.

"You know I did not sleep well." I answered almost immediately."

"You are not going out Hank again, are you?"

"Grissom!" I rebuked him incredulously by the exposure of my personal life. I hadn't gone out with Hank for a long time. What got into my boss?

"It was just a question... Which reminds me that you did not answer the first one: won't you take your sunglasses off?"

"No. I already told you that I didn't sleep well said." Once again, I justified myself with no reason. He seemed to accept the answer (why wouldn't he?). We finally got at LVPD, and, this time, after I opened the door by myself, he couldn't help himself but say:

"I like to see your eyes. They are more beautiful without the sunglasses." He said looking at me, without the audacity to remove the object that hide the demages caused by a sleepless night. He sighed and walked out. He left me with the same hope that he always leave behind for me and never bother to recognize.

"Baseball is a beautiful game." I murmured when he already was three steps away, toward to the autopsy. I'm sure he would wait for the results of the examination of the body. But he stopped for two seconds without turning around. He unnexpectedly murmured; so only I would listen to him:

"Since when you started to get interested in beauty?"

"Since the day that I met you!" I whispered even lower before he left. I'm certain that we shared a momory at that moment.

_To be continued... _


End file.
